


when a goddess of youth and forgiveness no longer feels young and has forgotten how to forgive

by TheScarletAngel



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Character Study, F/M, Family Drama, Not Canon Compliant, POV Minor Character, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:40:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27353626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheScarletAngel/pseuds/TheScarletAngel
Summary: A character study of Hebe, because the goddess of youth should have done more for the young demigods slighted by their parents when she feels the same way. And maybe along the way, she learns to forgive again.Or, I change myths and canon to fit in this uber minor character who was only mentioned like three times in the entire series because I enjoy making minor characters big players. Be prepared for an extremely rare pair as I have found nothing for these two.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Aphrodite/Ares (Percy Jackson), Dionysus (Percy Jackson)/Hebe (Percy Jackson), Hera/Zeus (Percy Jackson)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 45





	1. In which Hebe separates what is true and what is a myth

_ The Myths _

Hebe is close in age to Dionysus, which makes her incredibly close to him. Hebe is the goddess of forgiveness, and she therefore forgives everything. She is in love with Heracles and was happy in her marriage. She never holds grudges and she rarely, if ever, gets angry.

_ The Facts _

Hebe was the youngest goddess. The closest in age was Dionysus, and he was still fairly older than her. The youngest daughter of Zeus and Hera, and younger sister to Ares and Hephaestus. And she had dozens of other relatives not worth mentioning since they were only half. She was the goddess of youth and forgiveness. She was the cupbearer of the gods. 

She was only a minor goddess. She, the daughter of Zeus and Hera, was only a  _ minor  _ goddess when a half-mortal like Dionysus became immortal and got to be a major god. It wasn’t fair. She deserved to be more than a minor goddess. 

Hebe was, according to many, the most beautiful goddess. She didn’t see it, especially not when she stood beside Aphrodite. Hebe knew she looked young, sometimes she thought more childish than simply young. Aphrodite never looked childish.

She hated Dionysus.

Her marriage with Heracles was anything but happy or romantic. He raped her and from him she got two children, twin sons, both born immortal. She doesn’t keep in contact with any of them.

Hebe may have been the goddess of forgiveness, but she wishes the title was less generalized. She didn’t believe forgiveness should simply be given away. It was something that had to be  _ earned.  _ Some things couldn’t be forgiven. And, oh, did she have her grudges and anger. Maybe it was presented less obviously than others, say her brothers, but it was there.

_ The Truth _

There were not very many myths about Hebe. The myths that did exist were wrong about her. Hebe knew the myths. She didn’t trip while bringing a cup to Zeus. She had never been a clumsy woman. Hebe knew she was graceful, and so did everyone else. The vines of Dionysus tripped her to make her look foolish. The incident gave Zeus a reason to give his  _ whore  _ Ganymede a place on Olympus. He passed on her title to the boy, and in doing so passed on her place with the gods. She hates Zeus for doing that, for disrespecting her like that.

Hebe was not revered for keeping the gods young; they had been keeping themselves young long before her. She was not the most revered like some of the myths said. She was a child in their eyes. 

Hebe wasn’t a child. She was an immortal being deserving of respect. She may have been the goddess of youth, but she wasn't a child. 

The goddess of forgiveness didn't feel very forgiving, either. Why should she? It was them who slighted her. It wasn't her fault.


	2. In which Hebe could have saved Thalia Grace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or, Hebe might start to realize she isn't the goddess she once was.

I watched three half-bloods and a satyr stumble their way to the hill. Monsters chased close behind them. The two blondes made it with the satyr while the black-haired daughter of Zeus stood her ground. Thalia Grace was brave, giving her life up for her friends. That was commendable. It may have even been the kind of thing I would have blessed her for.

I didn’t. 

Thalia Grace should not have existed.

She was a daughter of Zeus, born after the pact that he, Poseidon, and Hades made, stating none of them would have more children. I wasn’t surprised it didn’t last very long. Zeus could never restrain himself when he saw something pretty.

The girl stood her ground. But I knew that it inevitably would not be enough. She was powerful, yes, but not enough to fight off the sheer power of the monsters she was fighting. Thalia Grace was going to die.

I pushed down the guilt that started to flood me. They couldn’t all be saved, is what I reasoned. There was no way to save them all. It wasn’t my fault she was going to die. If it was anyone’s fault, it was Hades’s. Not mine.

And then she didn’t die. She turned into a pine tree on the hill of the demigod camp.

No doubt the work of Zeus. And there was no doubt that he knew I was watching and did nothing to protect her. I wondered if he would be angry or surprised. It certainly was out of character for me not to protect the youths I was the patron of.

I hadn’t even attempted to try with the other two demigods, who were certainly not my half-siblings.

I dug my nails into my palms. Why was it always his demigod children that got preferential treatment? First Dionysus (though, once he became immortal, Zeus seemed to stop caring, much to my amusement), and now Thalia Grace. Zeus rarely showed his immortal children any lenience or preference. Not me, not Ares or Hephaestus or Apollo. Sometimes Artemis and Athena got his care.

It wasn’t fair.

My home may have been on Olympus, but I did not feel as if I was part of Zeus’s family at all. There was no place for me. Not since I had lost my position as their cupbearer to another of Zeus’s whores. Mother had tried to reason with him then. It changed nothing. I was a daughter of Zeus and Hera without a place on Olympus.

The air changed around me. There was no need to turn around, I knew it was Zeus. I knew he was angry with me, though it was for a ridiculous reason, in my opinion. He was the one who shouldn’t have been having children anymore.

“Hebe, come here. Now,” Zeus growled. He didn’t sound very upset that his youngest daughter just died. He just sounded angry. With me. For something I shouldn’t have interfered in, anyway. I had gotten in trouble in the past for interfering with my young demigods, but of course when it was  _ his _ demigod child, it upset him.

I kept my head bowed. My mother stood behind him. I knew she wasn’t angry with me, but rather with him. My mother had never been angry with me.

“You watched and did nothing,” he stated.

“I did,” I said, head still bowed. There was no point in trying to deny it. Zeus knew everything. Almost everything.

“Why?”

“It is your law that we are not meant to interfere with the lives of demigods. I was doing as I was told.”

“Hypocritical of you to say,” Zeus spat.

I wanted to say the same to him. Zeus may have been the most hypocritical of all of us. I wanted to say I learned the skill from him. There were so many things I could have said at that moment. So many things I should have said. But there was no denying that he was right. It was hypocritical of me to say when we both knew that I didn’t care for his ridiculous laws.

I waited for Zeus to do something. Anything. Yet, he stood there in his spot, breathing heavily. Maybe he was trying to intimidate me more or maybe he was trying to control his temper. Maybe this was his version of grieving. Whatever it was, it induced more anxiety every moment he didn’t do something. I dug my fingernails deeper into my palms and screwed my eyes shut. 

And I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Nothing happened.

I opened my eyes. My mother’s hand rested on her husband’s shoulder, though she didn’t look to comfort him. They spoke quietly. Hera did, anyway. Zeus didn’t exactly have a quiet voice.

Hera’s eyes were hard. Her typically soft brown eyes were almost black. They softened when she looked at me.

“Hebe, come closer, please,” she said gently. I didn’t want to go near Zeus, not when he continued to seethe. But Mother’s gentle eyes beckoned me closer. I think I was the only one who ever got her gentle gaze. When I approached the two, Mother stood behind me with both hands on my shoulders. I stared into the eyes of Zeus. I hated his eyes. Mother’s, at least when looking at me, were soft. Gentle. But they could change within moments, as they did when she glared at her husband. Zeus’s were never like that. There seemed to be a storm of lightning within his eyes. Zeus’s eyes didn’t know gentleness, and neither did he.

Even with Mother behind me, I didn’t expect much mercy.

My fingernails pierced my skin. Drops of golden ichor stained the marble white floor. I waited for judgement.

Was this how Thalia Grace felt as she stood her ground? Did she pray for mercy from her father as she prepared to give her life? Did she pray to any of the gods? She hadn’t prayed to me. I might have offered her protection if she had.

Me deciding to not help her had nothing to do with her being the bastard daughter of Zeus. Absolutely not. I was better than that. I should have been better than that.

“Your judgement has become clouded,” Zeus began, “and Hera believes you would be better suited to learning from your mistakes than face the justice that should be dealt to you.”

There shouldn’t have been justice. I had been doing what Zeus had been telling us all to do for ages. Do not interfere with the demigods. That was a punishable crime. But of course, since it was Zeus’s child, he could bend his laws as he saw fit.

“For a week of each month, you will go to the demigod camp. You will interact with the young ones.”

No. No. This might have been one of the worst nonviolent acts he could do to me.

“You’re… you’re sending me down there with… with  _ him _ ,” I stuttered.

“You will only be there for a week each month,” Zeus dismissed her. “You should be more thankful it is not a more harsh punishment.”

“Why do I have to go down there at all? I thought he wasn’t supposed to have contact with other gods, anyway, save for when he comes back-”. 

“Hebe.” I shut up. “You will go down to Earth and you will stay with Dionysus for a week each month.”

I wanted to argue. I wanted to say he was the one who banished Dionysus down there for a reason, and that he was the one who said he was to have minimal contact with any other god. There was so much I wanted to say to him, but they were things that would have triggered his terrifying temper. They were things that would have warranted a punishment so much worse than others he had given. Zeus was not a god who forgave easily. 

I tried one more thing. 

“You say you want me to interact with the young demigods. You say my judgement is clouded. I thought we were to have no interference in their lives,” I said quietly, hoping he wouldn’t take my objection too harshly.

“She is correct, Husband,” Mother said from behind me. Perhaps this is what she wanted. Me to ask the one question that would change Zeus’s word. Make him look hypocritical. Mother was manipulative.

Sometimes, she scared me more than Zeus.

“Not all of them,” Zeus conceded. “The ones deserving of our help.”

Had Thalia Grace deserved my help? Had the other two who dragged an unconscious satyr into the camp? 

In the past that would have been a quick yes. A distant past. I could barely remember the last time I extended my power to the mortals.

Perhaps Zeus was right, as much as I didn’t want to admit it. Maybe this was how gods lost themselves. They stop protecting. That was what mortals prayed to us for. Were we so deserving of their prayers if we didn’t even answer them?

But they hadn’t prayed to me. Mortals rarely did. I had no reason to feel guilty.

No, it wasn’t guilt weighing me down as I stood under the gaze of Zeus’s stormy eyes, I tried to convince myself. It was just Mother’s hands. Just her hands.


	3. In which Hebe spends her first week at the demigod camp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or in which Hebe realizes maybe her punishment won't be so bad 
> 
> Featuring a young Annabeth Chase, an irritated Dionysus, and a Chiron who is already sick of Hebe and Dionysus's shit

_ Day 1 _

The demigod camp had a name: Camp Half-Blood. It was a pretty generic name, but it was better than calling it ‘the demigod camp,’ I guess. At first glance, I wanted to admit it was nice, because it was. But I was determined to hate the place, so I pushed the thought to the back of my mind.

Zeus had instructed me to meet with Dionysus and Chiron immediately before turning away to matters more important than I. Mother was reluctant to let me go, but there was no way of preventing my leave. Zeus had commanded it, and his word was law.

I had no idea if either Dionysus or Chiron knew why I would stay a week out of each month at the camp. Things would be better if they didn’t know. Chiron may not have said anything, he was respectful at least, but Dionysus would have a field day out of belittling me for my mistake. He had always taken pleasure in making fun of me.

Both were sitting on the deck of a big blue house with white trim. I easily recognized Chiron. He hadn’t changed in hundreds of years. Dionysus was another story. I scrunched up my nose at his new appearance. It was not a flattering look, and not what the artwork of him looked like, which was typically pretty accurate.

The way mortals presented me in artwork had never been accurate. I had never taken the form of a child. The form I usually held was that of a sixteen or seventeen-year-old. The form I had recently started taking, while not old, was older than my preferred form. In the form I held then, I looked closer to being in my mid-thirties. It fit better. I no longer felt very young.

Still, it was a far cry from the form Dionysus had taken on. He was far from the (admittedly) handsome male I knew from Olympus and had seen in artwork created by mortals. He looked like a forty-year-old actor who had let himself go once the prime of his life was over.

No, not at all attractive. 

Maybe that was the point.

I sighed and resigned myself to the fact that I would have to meet with the both of them, eventually. It smelled like strawberries over there. I focused on that as I walked up the stairs of the deck of the stupid blue house. Chiron and Dionysus were playing pinochle. Chiron put down his cards in my presence. Dionysus did not. It hardly surprised me. He didn’t respect me. Not at all. He hated me.

“Lady Hebe,” he said, bowing his head. He motioned to a chair beside him. Thankfully, it was away from Dionysus. I was sure Chiron knew about the animosity Dionysus and I held toward one another.

“Chiron,” I greeted, nodding my head slightly. I looked at the man across from me. He kept his eyes hard on the cards in his hands. Then I glanced at Chiron, who looked at ease despite the air of uncomfortableness that surrounded us.

I lowered my hands to my lap,and swallowed my pride. “Dionysus.”

His eyes flicked up, but they didn’t linger on me. They went back to the cards. Chiron must have seen the displeasure on my face. He cleared his throat. Dionysus looked up again, this time longer, but then he went back to observing absolutely nothing.

“Dionysus,” Chiron warned verbally. This time he roughly set down his cards. He still didn’t look at me. And I thought I was childish.

“Fine, fine. Welcome to this infernal camp then, Hebe. Don’t expect me to be happy to see you,” he muttered the last part under his breath.

“I wasn’t expecting any courtesy from you,” I mumbled. “Do-do you know why I’m here?”

“We were informed, yes,” Chiron said. I didn’t like the look he gave me. He wasn’t supposed to look at a goddess like she was broken. Like something lost. I wasn’t broken, and I wasn’t lost.

“You let his daughter die, and you’re only here for a week out of each month,” Dionysus scoffed. “I got harsher for much less.”

“My mother intervened,” I admitted.

“Of course she did. You’ve always been her favorite,” he sneered.

“Better someone’s favorite than an unloved bast-”

“Perhaps, Lady Hebe, you would like me to show you the rest of the camp,” Chiron cut interrupted.

He only offered to keep me and Dionysus from going at each other. I nodded, anyway. “Perhaps that would be best.”

Dionysus retreated into the house, while Chiron led me away from it. On the hill stood Thalia Grace. At least, her tree stood there. The glance I gave it meant nothing. It was only for a moment.

“Chiron, there were two blondes that were with Zeus’s daughter when she… died. Are they alright?” I asked.

“They are,” he confirmed. “Their names are Annabeth and Luke. A daughter of Athena and a son of Hermes.”

Annabeth, daughter of Athena. Luke, son of Hermes.

“And the satyr?” I prompted.

“Grover is also fine.”

Grover. A satyr.

“Well, that’s good then, I suppose.”

“Yes,” Chiron looked at me the way one looks at something that needs to be fixed. “Yes, it is.”

_ Day 2 _

I sat on the porch early the next morning by myself, watching the sun rise. Apollo was on time. The house was rather nice, and so was the room I had been given to stay in. The camp itself was nice, too, based on what Chiron had shown me of it. Everything about the place was fine. It was a fine place for demigods to train so that maybe they would have a chance of surviving when they went out into the world. 

None of that meant I wanted to stay at the camp anymore than before.

“Good morning, Lady Hebe,” Chiron said, coming out of the house.

“Good morning, Chiron.”

“I hope your first day here was satisfactory.”

“I suppose it was fine. I wasn’t as miserable as I thought I would be, though I have you to thank for that. It helps to have someone to talk to,” I said. 

“You could try talking to Dionysus,” he suggested. “You two will be spending quite a bit of time together in the coming years.”

“And I’m dreading every moment.”

Chiron was silent for a moment. “Do you think you will ever be able to forgive him?”

For the first time that morning, I looked at the old centaur. He must have known about the transgressions between me and Dionysus. Most of them, at least. I didn’t know if I could forgive Dionysus for everything he had done to me. He had done nothing to earn my forgiveness.

But that wasn’t something I wanted to tell the kind centaur. He already looked at me like I was a broken thing. He didn’t need to know that maybe I was a broken thing. I didn’t want to be a broken thing. Goddesses didn’t break. We weren’t supposed to break. I wasn’t mortal. I should have been better than them.

“Perhaps.”

I looked out over the camp. Some of the campers were rising for the day. Zeus wanted me to interact with them, as hypocritical of him that wish was. I wanted no interaction with any of these children.

I would keep telling myself that.

“Do you care if I walk around by myself?” I asked him.

“By all means, go ahead,” he said.

One thing that I hated about this camp were the awful shirts. Bright orange? I wouldn’t have put it past Dionysus to pick such a god's awful color. It made me so happy that I didn’t have to wear something so ghastly. Instead, I wore a white top with a pink skirt. I was unabashedly feminine, unlike many of the other goddesses. Aphrodite was probably the only other goddess who was as openly feminine as I was. That may have been part of the reason we were friends.

I wandered around the grounds for about an hour on my own. Some of the campers were scattered around doing various activities. I stopped to watch two daughters of Apollo have an archery contest. The older one was winning.

There was a tug on my skirt. A small girl was tugging at the hem of it. I remembered her name. Annabeth. Daughter of Athena. She was one of the children who had been with Thalia. The others were Luke, son of Hermes and Grover, a satyr. This was Annabeth.

“Hello,” I said to the girl. She appeared to be no older than eight.

“Who are you?” she asked, staring up at me with hard grey eyes. They were definitely her mother’s eyes.

“My name is Hebe.”

“Are you like me?” she asked. “There aren’t any other adults here except Mr. D and Chiron, but they aren’t demigods like the rest of us.”

She hadn’t been here very long, but she seemed to have been taking the transition in stride. It might have had something to do with being chased by monsters for so long. Maybe it was the best way for her young mind to cope, by pretending nothing had changed much. That this reality was how it should have always been, like she had known it to always be even though that was definitely not the case.

That was a sad thought.

“No, I’m not like you. I’m more like Dio-Mr. D,” I said gently. Then, as an afterthought, I added, “What’s your name?”

I of course already knew it, but she didn’t know that.

“Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena,” she said proudly. “I’ve never heard of you, even though I’ve been learning all about the gods and goddesses.”

“Well, I’m more of a-a-” I paused, unsure of what to say to the young girl. Did she even know the difference between a minor and major god?

“I’m more of a background goddess. I’m not one most people hear about, but I’m always watching over my people, even if you don’t know about me,” I settled for, even though it wasn’t a very true statement anymore. Young Annabeth nodded anyway, looking like she understood very well what I was saying. It wouldn’t be very surprising if she did. Athena’s children had always been incredibly intelligent, even at young ages.

“What’s your domain?” she asked.

“Are you interrogating me?” 

She suddenly looked down at her feet. “No. But I’ve never met beings like you before.” She sounded ashamed to have asked me anything. I felt a little bad about that. Only a little, though. 

I moved off to a grassier part of the range and motioned for her to follow me. I sat in the grass with my legs stretched out in front of me, but making sure my skirt covered me and my legs were together. She sat beside me.

“I am the goddess of forgiveness and youth,” I said to her. She cocked her head to the side.

“So, of people like me?” 

I nodded. “Yes, like you.”

“Does that mean you protect us?”

“Us?”

“Demigods,” she elaborated.

That wasn’t a question I wanted to answer. I didn’t need this girl knowing it was because of me that a girl she had travelled with, and most likely had been friends with, had died and was now a tree that served as the border of this camp.

“You ask a lot of questions, Annabeth,” I said, changing the subject. She looked down again and started to play with the grass.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Absolutely not. How else are you meant to learn anything if you don’t ask about it?” I asked her.

“When I got here, Mr. D didn’t seem to like the questions.” It was common knowledge that Dionysus didn’t particularly care about this camp, but Annabeth sounded upset by his indifference. This was the perfect chance to “interact” with the demigods and insult Dionysus. It was a golden opportunity I couldn’t pass up.

“Well, between you and me,” I leaned closer to her to whisper in her ear, “I think it’s because he knows you’re smarter than him.”

“What? No!” 

“Well, maybe not smarter. But you’re definitely close,” I argued. “He’s not as smart as he thinks he is. I mean, have you seen what he wears? A smart person wouldn’t dress like that.”

Annabeth laughed. I couldn’t keep myself from smiling.

“He’s also totally jealous of me,” I added. “He knows he’ll never be as perfect as I am.”

She laughed more. Now she seemed like a child. A normal child. One who was supposed to have fun at her age. Not be worried about monsters or dying young.

“Don’t tell him I said any of that,” I said to her, leaning back on my elbows.

“I won’t,” she promised.

_ Day 3 _

“I saw you speaking with Annabeth yesterday,” Chiron said late in the evening. He was playing pinochle again with Dionysus. Again, Dionysus and I were kept separated. Dionysus kept his eyes firmly on his cards. I was never a card player.

“I did. She’s a nice girl,” I said. “Inquisitive, but a nice girl.”

“I don’t know why you’re wasting your time,” Dionysus muttered.

“She approached me. I wasn’t going to send the girl away when all she wanted was to ask me a question. I’m not like you. I can pretend to care.”

“I would say pretending to care is worse than me outright not caring,” Dionysus said into his cards. I glanced at Chiron, but he kept his eyes averted.

“Do you agree with him?” I asked Chiron.

“Of course he does,” Dionysus answered for him. “He knows I’m right.”

“I didn’t ask you!”

“Hebe, perhaps he’s-”

“You think he’s right?” I asked, a little offended by the implication.

“I think, if I may be blunt, that both of you have something to learn here,” Chiron said quickly. “It is why your father sent both of you down here.”

“No.”

Chiron looked between me and Dionysus, who had answered at the same time. I quickly looked down at the table.

Chiron didn’t understand Zeus. He didn’t know Zeus like I did, or even like Dionysus did. One thing I knew we both could agree on was that Zeus could be cruel. He was abusive. 

I hated him. 

_ Day 7 _

The rest of the week went by slowly. Annabeth had approached me a few more times, eager for more answers to questions she had. I gave her answers. I wouldn’t be cruel to her. There was no reason for me to dislike her. Maybe this girl deserved something from me. I had half the mind to remember her later on. She seemed to like me, anyway.

Of course, just because one girl had sparked my interest didn’t mean I wasn’t happy to leave. I was ready to leave, even if it would be only for a month.

I waited outside the house for Chiron, who said he had parting words for me. My foot tapped on the ground impatiently.

“Lady Hebe, are you leaving today?” Annabeth Chase ran up to me, her grey eyes looking expectantly up at me.

“Just Hebe is fine,” I said to her. “And yes, I’m leaving today.”

“Oh,” she said, looking down at the ground. She did that a lot when she seemed to have something to say, but didn’t want to say it.

“I’ll be back again next month,” I mentioned to her, hoping it sounded casual instead of something to try to make her feel better. Her head shot up again.

“Really?”

I nodded.

“And then you can answer more questions?” she asked. I smiled at the girl. Her curiosity was rather endearing.

“And then I can answer more questions,” I agreed. “Now, don’t you have other things you’re supposed to be doing?”

She blushed, then nodded and ran off to one of her older brothers.

“Has anyone told you that you’re very good with children?” Chiron asked from the porch. I shrugged.

“Dionysus isn’t coming to say goodbye?”

“He said there is no need since you’re coming back in a month. That aside, how was your first week here?” 

I had been thinking about that, knowing that he would ask that at some point. It wasn’t as awful as I had anticipated it to be. I didn’t necessarily want to come back, but the next month I didn't think I would dread it as much as the first time.

“It wasn’t as awful as I thought it would be,” I offered. Chiron grinned.

“I am glad to hear that, Hebe,” he said.

“See you next month, Chiron.”

“Until next month, my lady.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to do more, but I kind of ran out of ideas and didn't want to overload the chapter. Also, I'm very nervous to write out any of these characters, but I'm gonna do my best.


	4. In which Hebe speaks with Hera on the nature of her punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or, Hebe wonders if she has become to much like her mother and father

“Hebe, my dear. A moment, please.”

That was what my mother had said ten minutes before. In that ten minutes after she asked to talk, nothing had been said. We sat in one of Olympus’s beautiful gardens. I knew she was waiting for me to speak. She wanted to hear me ask what she wanted. She wanted me to talk about my punishment so she wouldn’t have to.

I didn’t want to talk about it, either. But it was that or sit in the silence until one of us broke. I knew it would be me who would break first. My mother was too stalwart in her emotions and mind. My mother was stronger than anyone would even think her capable of. She did, after all, fight the Titans in the war to overthrow them. A weaker being wouldn’t have survived. Weaker beings didn’t survive that war. The Queen of Olympus was strong. Maybe stronger than Zeus.

That didn’t mean she was without fault. None of the gods were without fault.

“I spent my first week at the demigod camp,” I said, trying to get the conversation started as quickly as possible so it would end faster.

“And how was your experience?” she asked. She sounded so calm. So assured. Usually her demeanor comforted me. It didn’t then for some reason unknown to me. Maybe it was because I was so wound up about speaking to her about this punishment. A punishment that I was sure was partly her idea.

“It wasn’t the worst thing Zeus could have subjected me to,” I told her. “It could have been much worse.”

“He wanted it worse. I hope you know that in those moments I convinced him to lessen it,” she said.

“Do you think I deserved a punishment?” I asked her. “Do you think I did the wrong thing?”

Mother laid her hands on her legs, regal as always. “I do not. If it were up to me, you would have no punishment at all. You were correct when you said you were to not interfere with those mistakes.”

“Mistakes?” I repeated. She nodded, knowing that I hated when the youth were referred to as such. It wasn’t their fault they were born. They didn’t choose to exist. It wasn’t fair to refer to any of them as a mistake.

But I had thought Thalia Grace a mistake the day she died. That was different, though. Wasn’t it?

“Well, perhaps only Zeus’s spawn,” she conceded. “You did nothing wrong, Hebe. You know how your father is.”

Hypocritical. Favoring. High-handed. The traits that a good ruler must have. Those traits of course made for a wonderful leader. Zeus may have been the most sanctimonious leader since his father Kronos ruled. 

“Hebe, why do you think your father sent you down there?” Mother asked.

I had asked myself that. It could not have been to interact with the children. That was outlawed, despite his words. It was for another reason. A sadder one, rather, that many of his children had felt the brunt of.

“To be rid of any troublesome beings,” I said. Mother watched me with her soft brown eyes, prompting me to continue. “Chiron said that Dionysus and I were down there to learn something. I-we both disagree. Zeus rids himself of anyone who causes problems for him. He has most recently done it with me. He did it with Dionysus, and he has done it with Apollo.”

“Do you not think the others were deserving of their punishments?” she asked.

“No,” I said. “I don’t. You disagree?”

“I do, but I am aware of my biases,” she admitted. “I am not unaware of my own feelings for Zeus’s other children who are not mine.”

“Do you hate all of Zeus’s… other children?”

“I tolerate them,” she said.

In other words, she did. Could I fault her for that, though? Hera was the goddess of marriage and childbirth. Marriage was sacred to her, and Zeus treated his marriage to her as it was a plaything. Something that was convenient only at certain times. To Zeus, marriage was not sacred. And that was an offense to his wife, to which marriage was the most sacred of things. The amount of times that Zeus had broken his vow to her was almost as infinite as the stars.

“How long will I continue to be punished?” I asked.

“That I cannot answer. I would end it now, if I could.”

“May I take my leave now?” I asked her after moments of silence.

“You may,” she agreed. I stood from my spot next to my mother, but she remained seated. I wondered if her and Zeus had been fighting again.

“Hebe, I know that others see me as a vindictive being and one that does not hold love for many. I hope that you know I do love you. It would not reflect well upon me if others heard this, but you are my favorite child,” she said.

I didn’t tell her that almost everyone already knew that. She hated Ares. She threw Hephaestus off of Olympus for being unsightly. They may have said they made peace, but I knew that wasn’t the case. Hephaestus still talked about it with bitterness in his tone, and Mother refused to acknowledge him. Dionysus had said it bluntly during my first week at the camp. 

I didn’t know how to answer her. Was I meant to thank her for loving me when it seemed like she didn’t love anyone else? Was I meant to tell her I loved her too? That didn’t seem like the correct response. I didn’t even think there was a correct response.

I nodded slightly, and took my leave, hoping it wasn’t too rude of me to do. 

I loved my mother, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t acknowledge that she wasn’t a kind woman. Perhaps she was to me, but I saw what happened to everyone else. I couldn’t pretend that she couldn’t be cruel.

I wondered, as I left the garden, if I was like Hera. I didn’t hate all of Zeus’s other children. I adored my older brothers Ares and Hephaestus, who were also children of Hera. I loved my sister Eris, though we were complete opposites. They were all Hera’s children, too, though. Like Hera, I tolerated most of Zeus’s other children. And I had thought of demigods as mistakes, like Hera. Did that make me like my mother? Was I unknowingly cruel like her?

No, I decided, as I stopped to watch the Muses. I would not be like Hera. I would not be like Zeus. Things had to be better. I had to be better. 

There were no mistakes.


	5. In which Hebe interacts with the demigod children of all the major gods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or, she comes to understand that perfection is impossible for even the gods

I wasn’t dreading this next visit. I had promised myself I would do better, and I would try my damndest to do better. Anyway, Annabeth Chase was waiting for me. A big part of me had been waiting in anticipation to see her again.

Once more, when I approached the house, Chiron and Dionysus were playing cards. Was that all they did? Unlike last time, I smiled when Chiron looked at me.

“Lady Hebe, you seem to be in high spirits today,” Chiron said.

“Thank you,” I said, sitting down beside him. “I’m feeling quite happy today.”

“Is there a particular reason for your sudden change in temperament?”

“I have decided that I am going to make the most of my time down here. And besides, there is already one irritating god here. No one needs a second one.”

“You’re wasting your time,” Dionysus cut in. He sounded bored.

“Excuse me?”

He put his cards down, face up. It was a losing hand. “You’re wasting your time. You’re doing this now as a futile attempt to relieve yourself of guilt. It won’t work. You’re already gone.”

“I’m not! Maybe you are, but I know I can do better. I’m not like the rest of you!”

I had to be better than the rest of them. They were arrogant and selfish and cruel. They all had thrones and some respect. I had nothing but the stray demigod who prayed to me for help. I had to be better, so there wouldn’t be others like Thalia Grace. There had been a time once when I cared for all of my children. I had to be that goddess again.

“Play your stupid game,” I mumbled. “There’s a little girl who’s been waiting for me.”

“Waste of time,” I heard Dionysus mutter as I walked away to find Annabeth Chase.

_ Annabeth Chase (Aged 7) _

When I found Annabeth Chase, she had just incapacitated another child her own age with her dagger. For a girl still new to this life, she had adapted quickly and well it seemed. Then again, Athena was her mother. And just like Athena, her children could adapt well and change with the situation. 

I waited for the young girl to finish with her training. Her grey eyes were lit up with excitement from her victory. I was proud of her, too, even though I didn’t know her very well. Then she saw me and abandoned the other demigods. Her eyes were still wide with excitement.

“You’re here!”

“I told you I’d be back. Did you not believe me?”

She shifted lightly on her feet. She put the dagger away and wrung her hands. “I heard from some of the older kids that gods are liars. But I know that you’re not a liar! I knew you would come back like you said you would!”

They thought us liars? Some of them, at the very least. That made me wonder just how many of them thought of the gods that way. It made me wonder if any of them thought worse of us. I thought we could hardly blame them for thinking of us that way. Zeus preached that we were perfect beings. We were not perfect beings.

“How has your time here been?” I asked her. “You get along well with your siblings?” 

She nodded enthusiastically, then started to talk about how her time here had been going. I half-paid attention to everything she was saying. She had been getting better at fighting with her dagger. Her siblings had welcomed her with open arms. Some other things.

“I asked Chiron about you.”

She had fully captured my attention again. “Did you?”

“I asked why you were coming here since none of the other gods ever come.”  
“And did he tell you?” I asked, not worried about what the centaur had said. I trusted him enough to not tell the young girl that I was the reason her friend now stood as a tree on the hill.

“Mr. D said you were in trouble,” Annabeth said. “Did you do something bad?”

That was who I had been worried about. I suppose I was lucky he said nothing about his half-sister. I bit the inside of my cheek. I really hated the curiosity of Athena’s children. What could I tell this girl without making her hate me? 

“I… I spoke out against Zeus,” I settled on. It was kind of true, anyway. 

“That’s it?”

“Zeus is…” I had to think carefully about my next words. No doubt he was listening. “A passionate ruler. He wants to keep order, and he finds that even the slightest mistakes are worth major correction.”

It hurt to say that. I believed none of it. Annabeth seemed to take it as answer enough, though, which was all I needed. 

“I have free time now. Can I ask you more questions?” she asked after a momentary silence. A grin crept across my face.

“Of course you can.”

Her grey eyes lit up again. I hoped she would keep that look for as long as she could. Children of Athena always lost it for a calculated stare. I wanted this girl to be a child as long as she could in the world she was forced into.

_ Josie Reed (Age 17) _

The head counselor of the Demeter cabin stared me down. No one had to tell me this was Demeter’s daughter. They had the same hard gaze in soft brown eyes that commanded respect. Few people knew Demeter carried this look. But she was Hera’s sister. They both had the same mannerisms, though few knew it.

“Can I help you?” I asked the girl.

“You’re a goddess, aren’t you?” she asked. Gods above, she even had the same tone as her mother. Somehow soft, yet firm and almost icy. I could already tell this girl was a contradiction, just like Demeter. Soft and hard.

“I am.”

“The gods aren’t supposed to be here, save for Dionysus. But he’s being punished. So which one are you and why are you here?” the girl asked. It amazed me how unafraid she was of us. She had said Dionysus’s name. His actual name with no fear in her voice. It impressed me more than angered me.

“I’m Hebe, and the reason I’m here is no business of yours, daughter of Demeter,” I said to her.

This daughter of Demeter showed no fear. None.

“It would be polite to tell me your name as well,” I offered, trying to shape it as a demand.

The girl’s gaze never wavered. “Josie,” she said curtly. Josie. I could remember that. Josie was an easy name to remember.

“How old are you, Josie?”

“Seventeen.”

“Then I assume you do know who I am at your age.”

“Hebe, goddess of youth and forgiveness. Former cupbearer of the gods,” she rattled off. Her eyes looked over me. I could tell what she thought when she looked at me. I didn’t look very young. I didn’t look like her patron.

“Is there a reason you sought me out, Josie?” I asked her.

“The Athena demigods aren’t the only curious ones here,” she said. “Dionysus informed all of the heads of cabins that you were here as a punishment like he is. We are the only ones who know.”

Save for a certain Annabeth Chase.

“And?” I prompted.

“I was chosen among the heads to ask you what you did. Personally, I don’t really care what you did. It’s the others who are curious,” Josie explained bluntly.

This girl held no respect for me. No respect for any of the gods if her blatant use of Dionysus’s name was anything to go by. I may have been angrier if her disrespect had been only toward me. If I had been another god, this girl would be dead, or perhaps something worse. From what I could tell of this girl, the kindness of Demeter was not very present. The iciness of Demeter is what I saw.

“Zeus does not take kindly to those who speak out of turn. That is what you can tell your fellow demigods,” I said to her.

She said nothing, but continued to stare. “Is there anything else?” I asked her.

“You don’t care about us.”

I had not been expecting that.

“I’ve seen you speaking with Annabeth Chase, the newest daughter of Athena. You’re only pretending to care. The gods don’t care about us,” Josie continued. “It took me months to get claimed by Demeter. Do you know why?”

She had forgotten. I remembered Demeter telling someone that she had forgotten to claim one of her demigod children. She defended it, saying that the father had been forgetful, just a simple groundskeeper she had met. I had a feeling that had been Josie.

“She forgot about me,” Josie said. “The gods forget about a lot of us. The Hermes cabin is overflowing with unclaimed demigods.”

What could I say to that? I couldn’t tell her she was wrong, not when she felt slighted by her mother. That… I couldn’t tell her that we cared. I didn’t know if the others cared. I wanted to care.

“Do you have demigod children here?” she asked, almost harshly.

“No,” I said, trying to be gentle. “I don’t have any here. If I did, I would have made sure they had a home.”

Josie’s face lightened, but only slightly. She would have been the spitting image of Demeter, had her hair not been brown.

“I should go,” she said in the softest tone I had heard her speak in. Before she left, she spoke again. “I’m sorry for being so disrespectful.”

“You’re forgiven,” I said, though I surprised myself with those words. When was the last time I had said those words? And meant it?

“I shouldn’t have accused you of not caring or of being a bad parent. I’ve read your myths, Lady Hebe. I think you sometimes feel the same way we do.”

Josie left before I could respond to her closing words. They were powerful words. They were words that I understood. She had separated me from the other gods. I wondered if that meant she had me on a higher standard. I also wondered exactly what she meant. If she meant slighted, then she hit the mark.

The idea of being understood by a mortal demigod scared me. We were not the same. They were lesser beings, and that was not an insult but the truth. We were not equal, and we should not have been able to sympathize with each other.

It scared me we did.

_ Marisol Garcia (Age 7) _

The young girl who had been sparring with Annabeth earlier in the week struggled with archery, too, it seemed. There had been a son of Apollo trying to help her, but he had been called away to help another. The little girl looked like she was on the brink of tears. Her bottom lip trembled.

I went to kneel beside the girl. “Are you okay?” I asked her. The bow in her hands shook with each shaky breath she took.

“I can’t do anything right! I’m not good at anything,” she cried. Tears dotted her eyes. One fell. I wiped it away with my thumb. She didn’t seem to care that she had no idea who was even talking to her.

“I’m sure that’s not true,” I tried to comfort the girl. “These things take practice, that’s all.”

“My brothers and sisters can do it! They don’t even try to help me anymore. My brother just left to help someone else. They all think I’m pathetic,” she whimpered. 

“What’s your name, dear?”

She sniffed, trying to keep herself from crying anymore. I wiped away more tears. “Mar-Marisol. Garcia.”

“And you know who your parent is?”

“Valeria Garcia.”

“And your father?” I asked, realizing that she must have been a newer demigod.

“They-they said his name was Apol-Apollo,” she said with more tears coming out of her eyes.

It made more sense why it bothered her that she wasn’t good at archery. Everyone expected Apollo’s children to be expert archers.

“I don’t think your brothers and sisters think you’re pathetic. You’ll learn how to do these things,” I said gently. Her small hands gripped the bow tighter.

“What if I can’t?”

“Then you’ll find something else you’re good at. I’m not good at everything. No one can be good at everything.”

I raised her hands and the bow in them. “Here, I’ll help you until one of your siblings comes to help you again. Does that sound okay?”

She swallowed, but nodded. “Can you show me what you know how to do already?” I asked her. Again, she nodded. She wiped her tears away herself this time and raised her bow. She nocked the arrow, aimed it, took a breath, then let go. She flinched when she let go.

It missed the target.

“Everything you’re doing is basically perfect. It's just your aim that’s a bit off, and you flinched when you let go. Here,” I took another arrow from her quiver, had her ready the bow, and guided her into position. “Keep the target in sight and don’t be afraid of your weapon. It won’t hurt you unless you’re being dumb. And… here.”

I let her go. She still shook, but less than before. “Let go when you’re ready.”

She let go without flinching. The arrow flew. It still missed, but it ended up being closer than before. It was a good start.

“See, you’re already doing much better. Do you want to keep trying?”

She nodded and raised her arms again. Then she lowered them. “What’s your name?”

“Hebe.”

She repeated it, then smiled. There was Apollo. That was an Apollo smile. 

By the time another of Marisol’s siblings finally came back to help her, she had hit the target three times. Not in the center, but the outside rings. By no means a lot or very well done, but an accomplishment nonetheless for the young girl. Of course, that could have been me, too. Archery was not something I had ever been very good at.

“Thank you, Hebe!” she said. Then, to my surprise, she hugged me tightly. “I like you a lot. You’re nice.”

I patted her head. “I like you, too, Marisol. I hope the rest of your day goes well.”

Her brother took her away. The range was emptying. 

Marisol wasn’t like Josie. That had been one of the first things I had noticed about her. Josie was older and more jaded. She understood more, which made her more mature and wise to the world they lived in. But Marisol was young and innocent. She didn’t yet entirely understand her world. Marisol was more like Annabeth.

I hoped neither of them would become too worn by the world. Josie looked tired. Annabeth and Marisol didn’t deserve to have that look in their eyes when they got older.

_ Luke Castellan (Age 14) _

__ “You should stay away from Annabeth.”

I looked up from the trashy romance novel I had started. The boy who had spoken was the same one who had been with Annabeth, Thalia, and Grover the satyr on… that night. His father was Hermes, but what was this boy’s name?

“Luke,” I remembered, “care to tell me why? I am rather fond of Annabeth Chase.”

“I know who you are, Hebe. You could have saved Thalia, and you didn’t. I don’t want you to put Annabeth in danger, too.”

“Then why have you not told Annabeth about your suspicions?” I asked him. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. I continued.

“I think you should know by now that I cannot interfere in your lives. None of the gods can. I am sor-”

“I don’t think you are.”

Josie had been disrespectful, but she had given a reason for being angry. And she had apologized for it. She hadn’t told me what I should and shouldn’t do. While I got the sense that Luke was angry at more beings than simply me, he wasn’t making that very clear.

“What do you mean?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. He had a right to be angry, I repeated over and over in my head. I couldn’t get angry. Luke Castellan had a right to be angry with me.

“I don’t think that you’re sorry because you don’t care. None of you care. You leave us. Forget about us. The Hermes cabin is filled with unclaimed demigods.”

Josie had said that. I remembered her saying it was full because the gods were forgetful.

“When I was claimed by Hermes, they never said it, but I knew they had been wishing another god had claimed me so I would be out of there,” Luke continued, sounding even more bitter than Josie had.

“I… I’m trying to care again. You’re right to say that I didn’t care, but I want to care again. I’m going to try to be better. I can’t say that the other gods will even attempt to do the same, and there’s nothing I can do about that. You’re right to be angry, but you are best keeping those thoughts to yourself, lest they get you into trouble,” I explained to the boy. His blue eyes were hard. Right now, I didn’t see much of Hermes in the boy.

He stalked away without another word. I picked the book back up. I set it back down.

“Dionysus!” I called into the house. No answer. “Dionysus, don’t ignore me!”

“He’s not here, Lady Hebe,” Chiron said. He wheeled out of the office. Wait, wheeled?

“Where’s your…” I motioned to his missing lower half. He laughed.

“This form makes it easier for me to work here. What is it you needed Dionysus for?” he asked.

“I just wanted-you know what, it’s not important,” I waved it off. “Can you teach me how to play that stupid card game you and him play?”

_ Aaron Goffe (Age 14) and Alexander Bennett (Age 16) _

My favorite brothers were Ares and Hephaestus. I adored them, and I didn’t really know why. Maybe it was because they were both disliked by our mother and father. And yet I hadn’t even spoken to either of their children. They both had a fair amount, yet I hadn’t yet sought out my favorite brothers' children.

When I did search for them, it wasn’t hard to find them. Both of them were boys, and they were sparring. One a son of Ares, the other a son of Hephaestus. The son of Ares looked so much like his father. Black hair and a large build. A determined look on his face. His movements were strong, but not quite planned. That was most certainly Ares. Hephaestus’s son looked less like him, though he did have brown hair and brown eyes, and he shared his father’s hard, but thoughtful look. He was small and he used that to his advantage. Hephaestus was something of a brute as well, but he could find weak points in his opponent, likely from his work done in the forges. His son found Ares’s son’s weak spots, but overall that wasn’t enough for the son of Hephaestus.

“Well done, boys,” I said, clapping at their hard work. Two pairs of eyes quickly turned to look at me. The son of Ares helped the other boy up from the ground.

“You’re sons of Ares and Hephaestus, correct?” I asked, getting closer to the two boys.

“Yeah, I’m Alexander, call me Alex,” the son of Ares pointed to himself, then he pointed to the other boy, “and that’s Aaron.”

Aaron was the younger one, I could tell that. Maybe about thirteen. Alexander, or Alex as he said he preferred, looked about Josie’s age. I wondered if these two were friends with any of the others I had spoken to.

“Who are you?” Aaron asked.

“That’s our aunt, Hebe,” Alex answered him. I cocked my head to the side, impressed that he knew who I was. “She’s one of our father’s sisters. Their favorite, too, I think.”

“I like to think so,” I agreed. They stood close to each other. The son of Hephaestus stood quite a bit shorter than Alex. “They are certainly my favorite brothers.”

They didn’t seem very talkative. Hephaestus wasn’t talkative, so that was to be expected. Ares liked to talk, so for Alex to be quiet was out of character for a son of Ares. Unless it was just my presence quieting them down. That was possible, even though I didn’t think myself intimidating.

“You two seem close,” I offered, wanting them to walk to me. These were the two I had wanted to see, and they didn’t even seem interested in communicating with me.

“We came here together,” Aaron said. “About three years ago. We’ve kinda stuck together ever since.”

“That’s good you two have each other,” I said. Their fathers didn’t get along great, but it was good that they got along. I paused. “How old are you two?”

“Sixteen,” Alex pointed to himself. 

“Fourteen,” Aaron said.

I ran a hand through my hair. This meeting was so much more awkward than previous ones. Why could I not talk to these two normally?

“Josie said you’re not too bad. You seem really awkward, though,” Alex blurted. Aaron turned to him, wide-eyed, as if to say ‘I can’t believe you just say that to a goddess.’ I chuckled quietly. There was the impulsiveness of Ares.

“Alex, you can’t say things-”

“It’s okay, Aaron. I guess this is still a little strange for me. I haven’t really been around people your age in a while,” I admitted. “But you know Josie?”

“Yeah, we’re friends. I think she actually likes you,” Alex said. “She didn’t curse when she talked about you.”

I supposed that was a good thing. Of course, I didn’t know how often she talked about the other gods.

“They’re a little more than friends,” Aaron said. Alex gave him the same look he’d gotten. I cocked an eyebrow. This was interesting.

“Oh? A crush?” I teased. Alex’s cheeks inflamed. He reminded me of Ares when he was with Aphrodite. He turned into such a softie when he was with her. Alex ran a hand through his black hair. Ares did that, too, sometimes.

“Aaron, don’t you have to fix something for that Apollo kid? Mary?” Alex said quickly.

“Marisol,” Aaron corrected. 

“Whatever, let’s go. It was nice meeting you, Aunt Hebe,” Alex said, pulling Aaron’s hand to pull him along.

Aunt Hebe. This was by far the most awkward meeting, but it was still better than the one with Luke and even Josie. Alex had acknowledged me as family. He was the only one who had acknowledged me as family. It felt… nice, I guess to be acknowledged as family. It was nice to know that even though I was not perfect, not everyone had given up on us.

I missed my brothers so much.

_ Kylie Agapov (Age 10) _

“You’re super pretty,” a little blonde girl came up to me and said without precedent. I was watching Marisol practice her archery. She had been doing better each day she practiced. I was so proud of her.

“Thank you. You’re very pretty, too.”

“I know.”

Well, she wasn’t without confidence. She must be a daughter of Aphrodite. I could tell. I knew my friend well enough to recognize the characteristics of her children.

“Who were you claimed by? Aphrodite?” she asked. “You look pretty enough to be her daughter.”

“I’m not,” I laughed, flattered by her words. “I’m a goddess, too, though.”

“Oh,” she said. Her face fell. “Luke was telling us about you. He said you don’t care about us.”

I decided I did not like Luke Castellan.

“He did?”

“He said if you did, then you would tell the gods to claim their children. Like me,” she said.

Aphrodite hadn’t claimed this girl yet? She had no idea that her mother, my best friend, was her mother.

“What’s your name?” I asked her.

“Kylie Agapov. Do you know who my parent is?”

“I-even if I did, I couldn’t tell you.”

“Why not?” Her face grew hard. Angry.

“It’s not my job to claim you,” I said, trying to be gentle. “But, I can mention something. How long have you been here?”

“Almost a year.”

A year, and still unclaimed. How could Aphrodite let her go so long unclaimed? It wasn’t fair to this child. It wasn’t fair for any of the unclaimed children to go so long without knowing who they are. I could mention something, but that didn’t mean anyone would listen.

“I’m sorry, Kylie. If I could do something about it, I would.”

“Yeah,” she stood up. “Luke told me you would say that.”

I almost told her she shouldn’t listen to Luke. That he was trying to make her angry. But, really, that would have enforced his point. That we didn’t care about them or their personalities or their thoughts and feelings. So I said nothing and let the girl leave.

I could tell Aphrodite to claim her children. That didn’t mean she would do anything about it.

_ Pollux and Castor (Age 11) _

Dionysus, I noticed, usually sat with his sons. He only had two of them. They were twins named Pollux and Castor, aged eleven. Chiron had told me about them. They didn’t have many friends, apparently. Chiron had told me he thought the others were envious since the twins had their godly parent around, though I hadn’t ever noticed him being very fatherly, save for when he sat beside them at meals.

The twins shared his eyes. A deep violet, but unlike their father’s eyes, they were happy. Not bitter. The twins had blonde curly hair, a big contrast from their father’s dark black hair. I felt bad that they were alone. And I had yet to speak with them. So I joined them.

“Do you two mind if I join you? I noticed your father isn’t here tonight,” I said. Pollux and Castor looked to each other, then nodded at the same time. I sat beside them. Just as I did, I heard a prayer to me. Annabeth Chase glanced over and smiled. I smiled back. She didn’t have to do that, but I did appreciate the prayer.

“Dad doesn’t like you. He told us that the night after you left. He complained for, like, ten minutes,” Castor said.

“Well, I don’t like him much, either. But I don’t really wanna talk about him. I’ve had enough of him to last me a few eternities. I want to know about you two,” I said. “You both seem a lot nicer than your father.”

“He’s kinda grumpy, all the time, I’ll give you that,” Pollux said quietly, with a shy smile that was pretty adorable.

Pollux was definitely quieter than Castor, and though they were twins, they each had their own personality. Pollux liked purple, while Castor liked orange. I told them I hated both of those colors, and they physically cringed when I told them I liked pink. Pollux preferred fighting with a sword, and Castor liked his dagger. Castor had more energy. Both like grapes and strawberries. I liked strawberries.

“Do you have kids here?” Pollux asked quietly.

“Not here. But, I do have one demigod son. He’s in Brazil with his father,” I said. “I met him when he visited here for a trip.”

“So you don’t have a lot of kids?” Castor asked.

“No, not really. I don’t need my own, either, though. All of you I could consider my children.”

“Dad said you don’t,” Castor said.

Damn it, Dionysus. Why couldn’t he keep his damn mouth shut?

“Well, your father isn’t very fond of you, either,” I said without thinking. I realized that was the wrong thing to say too late. The twins' expressions turned sad.

“I didn’t mean you two,” I backtracked quickly. I swallowed thickly. “I know he loves you two. He wouldn’t come spend time here with you if he didn’t. I meant the camp as a whole. I’m sure he would enjoy this more if he wasn’t here as a punishment.”

“So you and Dad are similar in that way?” Pollux asked.

I hadn’t thought about that, but we were. I could grudgingly admit that. I hated that Pollux saw that. That meant others saw it. I didn’t want to be compared to Dionysus in any way. Not at all, not ever. We were not the same.

“I guess. Let me tell you, though, I like you guys way more than your father.”

That perked them up.

_ Hebe’s Last Night of the Week _

The camp was so much quieter at night. And so much emptier with everyone hidden away in their cabins. From the porch where I sat, I could see Thalia Grace clearly. I felt something when I looked at her, but I couldn’t place exactly what it was. 

“There’s a very big part of me that hopes the harpies try to eat you.”

I didn’t have the energy to argue with Dionysus. “Wouldn’t that be something?”

To my shock and disappointment, he sat next to me. He crossed his arms. I leaned away from him. “So you’re back? Where’d you go?”

“Chiron said you wished to see me,” he said, avoiding my question. “If I didn’t know him, I would think he was lying to me.”

“What did you mean when you said I was gone already?” I asked. His statement had been on my mind all week.

“You really don’t know?” He laughed, but it was mocking. “Take a look at the form you’ve been taking. For a goddess of youth, you don’t look very young.”

I hadn’t felt young in such a long time. My time here had been the youngest I felt in ages.

“When was the last time you protected your so-called youth?” he continued.

It had been a long time. A very long time. It had been ages since I had felt responsible for my people. I wanted to be responsible for most of them. Most of the ones I had met here I wanted to care for.

“When was the last time-”

“I get it. I get it,” I cut him off. “I’m a shitty being incapable of change, is that what you’re saying?”

He shrugged, which was probably a yes. “Even we cannot achieve perfection, it seems, Hebe.”

“Some of them are so angry. At us, and we do nothing about it. Why do we not change for them?”

“You’re stubborn. I’m stubborn. Father is stubborn. We are all set in our ways. Change is hard, Hebe, especially when we’ve been stuck in our ways for years,” he said. I nodded.

“I spoke to your sons, Pollux and Castor. I liked them. They’re actually decent, unlike you.” I glanced over him. “And unlike you, they know how to dress themselves.”

“I feel the need to tell you that I did not miss you when I was gone.”

“I’m bored. Chiron taught me that dumb card game you’re always playing. I might beat you since you’re pretty shit at this game.”

He rolled his eyes, but reached for the deck of cards on the table.

I lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took forever guys, but I actually really liked how it turned out. I hope you all feel the same! This also ended up being super long, the document was about 15 pages.
> 
> Also, I haven't decided how far in the series I'm gonna go. Let me all know what you think!


	6. In which Hebe speaks to Hestia about what it means to care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And she finally speaks to her sisters after what has been over a century

“Hebe, you have been back for two weeks and have barely left your home. I know I am the goddess of the home,” Hestia laughed lightly, “but you cannot just stay here perpetually.”

“Who sent you? Not that I’m not happy to see you, since it has been a while.”

“No one sent me, my dear niece. I have noticed that you have been in low spirits since you returned from the demigod camp,” she said gently.

“You’ve noticed?”

“I keep an eye on all of my family. Even if none of you ever care to pay much attention to me.”

The way she spoke reminded me of my mother, although Hestia spoke in a much gentler tone. My mother’s voice was powerful, and she demanded attention when she spoke. Hestia’s tone, though gentle, held the same demand for attention. The similarities were nuanced, but they were there. It wasn’t something I had noticed before, but then, Hestia was correct. I had never talked at length with my more quiet aunt. Did anyone speak with her often, I wondered. 

“Now, tell me what has been plaguing you,” she added.

“When did we stop caring about humanity?” I asked her.

“Are you referring to the callous way that we treat our children?”

“I-I don’t think I would say callous, but yes. That’s what I suppose that is what I mean. They fight for us more than we fight on our own. They continue to believe in us when we forget about them,” I explained. “Most of them, anyway.”

“Most of them?” she prompted.

“Some of them are so bitter and angry, but can we blame them? Can we blame them when we are exactly the uncaring beings they think us to be?” I asked. “They feel slighted by us. And I can understand them. I can understand them, and it’s killing me, metaphorically speaking.”

I understood some of those demigods, and I couldn’t stop thinking about the kind of person that made me. I understood people like Josie, the daughter of Demeter, who knew what it was like to be forgotten and then claimed as an afterthought. Demigods like Luke Castellan, though disrespectful to a point where it annoyed even me, who had watched their friends die and have us do nothing about it, were reasonably angry. Demigods like Kylie Agapov, who hadn’t even been claimed because the unions were forgetful, had a right to be angry. They felt slighted and I could understand them because I felt the same.

Gods, I felt the same as a group of mortals. How pathetic did that make me? Perhaps that was why I was only a minor goddess rather than the major one I deserved to be. Because I could relate to a group of mortals.

“It’s not a crime to care, Hebe,” Hestia said.

“Then why do we not? Please, explain that to me. I want to care so much. They don't deserve our apathy.”

“I think-” Hestia placed a finger on her lips, “I think that when one lives so long that they forget that immortality does not equate perfection or greatness. You are not perfect. I am not perfect. None of the gods are perfect.”

“You may be the closest thing to perfect,” I said.

“Why does everyone think that?” she asked, laughing softly. I didn’t have an answer. She appeared to be the Olympian who had done the least dastardly deeds. At least, that was what I had thought.

“Hebe, you forget that I am a child of Kronos. The oldest one, though my siblings tend to forget that fact. All of them, except, for Hades. When we fought against him and his army, I fought alongside my siblings. I am not without blood on my hands and I am not without my bitterness. And, sometimes, I forget that our demigods are undeserving of our anger and neglectfulness. So you see, I am not perfect. But I do try to be better than what history has written us to be,” Hestia explained.

“Do you care about them? Humans?”

“Sometimes.”

“Sometimes? What do you mean?”

“I care about my family. Mortal, immortal, or otherwise. Those who are not family must try much harder for my attentions and care,” she said. “I do care, but it is impossible to care about everyone.”

It shouldn’t have been impossible for us. We were gods. Zeus created humans. The rest of us could drive their actions. Impossibilities should not have been something we even had to think about. We ourselves were, considered by some, impossible. That proved that nothing was impossible, didn’t it? To me, at least, it showed that simply  _ caring  _ shouldn’t have been an impossibility.

“... too hard.”

I shook my head, Hestia’s voice breaking me from my thoughts.

“What?”

She laughed. “You’re thinking about this far too hard. I have already told you that we are not perfect, which means that there are some things impossible even for us.”

“I still think the gods could put in more time in interacting with their children. Or even pretend they care.”

“When was the last time you saw your sisters?”

“ … It’s been a while,” I admitted.

“As I said, my dear niece, we are gods, but we are not perfect. It is difficult for us to find time for those we are supposed to care about. Even if that’s not the way it should be,” Hestia explained gently.

I stood up from my spot. “Thank you, Hestia, for coming to see me. I will try to make myself less of a hermit from now on. I… I think I have somewhere I need to be.”

“Go then, Hebe. I can let myself out.”

I found my three sisters together in a garden far outside the palace. All three of them stared at me as I approached.

“Look who has decided to join us,” Eris spat. “Remember us, have you?”

“I’m sor-”

“She’s Hera’s favorite, of course she would have no need for us,” Enyo interrupted. “She makes more time for Ares than us.”

I cringed at that. Ares and Enyo were married, but I barely found time to see my sister, instead choosing to see my brother.

“Sisters, I’m sure Hebe has had good reasons to ignore us,”  Eileithyia said, most likely trying, and failing, to be more sympathetic than my other two sisters.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been to see any of you. I understand that it has been a while,” I said before they could interrupt me again.

“A while? It has been nearly a century. Have you been brooding for that long?” Eris said.

“And, we understand, that you are being punished for killing one of Zeus’s demigods,” Eileithyia added. “That is more of a recent development, though, and hardly an excuse.”

“No, I know that it isn’t. And, yes, Eris, I suppose you could say that I have been brooding. I’m trying to fix myself, though. And that starts with you three. I’m going to make time to see you from now on,” I explained.

Eris crossed her arms and looked away. Eileithyia chose to look at her feet. Only Enyo continued to acknowledge me.

“You have continued to see Ares and Hephaestus. Why not us? Could it be because we are minor goddesses?” Enyo asked.

I stayed silent. But the answer was yes. Yes, it was.

Enyo understood the silence.

“You are the goddess of forgiveness, sister. Tell us why we should forgive you,” Enyo said.

“You shouldn’t. You… you don’t have a reason to. I’m not asking you to forgive me. I am asking for a change to earn it, though. If you’ll give it to me.”

The three of them shared glances with each other.

“I’m willing to give her a chance,” Eileithyia said. She had always been the most gentle of us.

“If she continues to see Ares as she does, then I am sure our paths will cross, anyway,” Enyo reasoned. “It is better, I suppose, if we do not carry animosity.”

Eris remained quiet.

“She’s your favorite sister, Eris. Can you really stay angry with her?” Eileithyia asked her.

“You have a single chance to redeem yourself to me, Hebe,” Eris muttered.

I breathed out. “Thank you. I do understand that I haven’t been a good sister to you three. I’m going to do better.”

“I expect you to be,” Enyo said.

I nodded.

“Now that we have compromised,” Eileithyia cut in, “tell us about the demigod camp. How is Dionysus? I know you two loathe each other. It must be terrible to have to be together so often now.”

“You look old now,” Eris added. “You’re still brooding, then?”

“Eris,” Enyo warned.

“It’s true. She broods more than I do, and I’m probably the most emo goddess there is.”

I took one look at Eris and laughed.

I told them about everything they had missed out on since I had left our small group. They had told me some things that I hadn’t realized I missed. I had forgotten what it had been like to care about someone so much.

I loved my sisters, and I wouldn’t forget to care about them again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, because myths don't like consistency, I have chosen these three goddesses to be Hebe's sisters. The birth order I have decided for Hera's children is: Ares, Eileithyia, Enyo, Hephaestus, Eris, and finally Hebe. Much research has been done to decide this.


	7. In which the years go by and Hebe can see change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And she comes to understand why the gods aren't meant to care

For a long time, I didn’t hate going to the camp. I looked forward to the visits. Even Dionysus couldn’t keep me from wanting to come back. I spent more time with Annabeth and her endless stream of questions. Marisol improved on her archery. Josie acknowledged me when she saw me, as did Alex and Aaron. Luke and Kylie avoided me.

For a long time, things were okay. Never perfect. But okay.

But, as years go by, there is change. It is inevitable. I saw change, both good and bad.

Kylie got claimed. It took just over a year for my friend to finally claim her demigod child. Kylie hadn’t looked excited when she had been surrounded by pink light and had a dove hovering over her blonde head.

New campers showed up. That was good, obviously, since they weren’t dead. But I finally understood just how long some of them had to wait. Some of them got claimed quickly, usually Athena’s, or, surprisingly, Ares’s children. Others, like the children Demeter or Hephaestus, had to wait a little longer. Hermes was too busy to glance at his children most of the time. Apollo and Aphrodite seemed to forget about the unions that weren’t memorable to them. Dionysus only had two children, or so he claimed.

Josie and Alexander started dating. They were cute together.

I wanted everything to be good. These children deserved it. But not everything was good, though, and that was the harsh reality of their lives.

Marisol and Annabeth grew up. Little Marisol, who used to struggle so much with archery, became one of the best archers the camp had. She became a great healer, too. And Annabeth, gods, Annabeth. The curious, young look I desperately wanted her to keep disappeared far too quickly. She traded it in for the calculated gaze all of Athena’s children get at some point.

It had hurt me to see her come up to me with that look instead of the young curious gaze I adored.

For a long time, I thought I was changing, too. I thought I was becoming a kinder goddess, one that could care about the children. That was what I thought until I was asked about other demigods. Ones that died. Ones that died, and I didn’t even know their names.

The biggest example of this concerned Luke Castellan and the pitiful quest Hermes sent him on to try to make Luke feel important and loved. Luke Castellan returned with a nasty scar on his face. He was the only one who returned. I don’t even know he went with him on his quest. Deaths all for a quest that had already been done before.

But, I didn’t understand why Luke was more angry that his father had sent him on a recycled quest than the fact that his friends had died. To me, it seemed like Hermes was at least trying to do well by his son.

I saw the campers burn a shroud for the two others who had died. Luke remained impassive. Only seventeen and so, so angry. As I looked around the mourning demigods, I saw that others had the same expressions as Luke. Some impassive, others angry.

A year went by, and more good things happened, but with the good came the inevitable bad. More demigods died.

“Does it bother you when they die?” I asked Dionysus one day.

“No,” he said simply.

“At all?”

“No.”

It bothered me. It bothered me more than I supposed it should have. 

More died.

I still cared.

The time after that a demigod died, it didn’t hurt quite as much. Really, I had expected it to happen. I couldn’t fool myself into thinking it wouldn’t happen again. It was better to be numb than to care.

Caring meant hurting. Gods weren’t supposed to hurt.

Another year, but I still wasn’t as numb as Dionysus. It still hurt when a demigod didn’t come back.

“Why don’t you do anything?” Annabeth asked me. She was almost twelve. I missed her past self. “You’re the one who’s supposed to actually care about us.”

I couldn’t answer her. 

She didn’t talk to me again the next time she saw me.

I think I finally understood why the gods chose to ignore their children. It hurt to care about them. We were supposed to be above pain. 

But we weren’t.

We were too arrogant to admit this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is a bridge. Next chapter our conflicted Hebe will meet Percy Jackson


End file.
